


Deal with the Devil

by KittyBandit



Series: RarePair Week 2019 [4]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demon Hunters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Chruch Sex, Confessional Sex, Demon Hunter!Cross, Demon Sex, Demon!Tyki, Hate Sex, M/M, Priest!Cross, Rough Sex, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 19:50:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21258710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyBandit/pseuds/KittyBandit
Summary: “Forgive me, Daddy, for I have sinned.”





	Deal with the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> For RarePair Week 2019 Day 4 – The Magician   
Prompts used: Desire, trickery
> 
> Nothing but sin here. You can thank my friend Kashyurio for the summary quote. >;3c

Working late had its advantages—first and foremost, no one was there to see him drinking the sacramental wine.

It wasn’t particularly good wine and, if Cross were honest, he would’ve preferred whiskey, neat. But decent whiskey cost money, money he didn’t exactly have at the moment. Most of the bars in town already knew his reputation for skipping out on the bill and he was on thin ice with a few of his lady friends. He couldn’t risk spoiling those relationships, not when there was still work to be done. A lot of work.

But back to the wine. It was red, of course. Blood of Christ and all that. He stared down into the goblet he’d nicked off the altar, the wine clinging to the sides as he rolled the glass in his hands. The other priests liked to play at communion, as if their wine and crackers were a perfect substitute for the real thing. But it looked nothing like blood—he’d seen enough to know the difference.

At least it got him drunk, though.

He knocked back the last of the wine, draining the cup dry and grabbing the bottle he’d left on the floor next to him. He sat on the edge of the dais, long legs stretched out. As he poured the last of the stolen wine from the bottle, a few drops spilled into his lap. The liquid disappeared into his black robes. He was already feeling the effects of the alcohol, head light and lips pleasantly numb. But it didn’t matter if he was sloppy drunk or fell asleep against the lectern. No one in this town came to the church after 10PM. He was safe to indulge and quiet the demons in the back of his head for a few hours, at least.

He pulled the goblet to his lips again, the heavy smell of wine in his nose, when he heard the doors open. _Shit._

Footsteps echoed down the aisle, leisurely making their way to the pulpit. Cross finished the wine, gulping it down to hide the evidence of his indulgence on the job. As soon as he pulled the goblet from his lips, ready to stash it and the now empty bottle of sacramental wine, he caught sight of his guest and scowled.

“Oh. It’s just you.”

“Father Marian. I’m touched with your warm greeting,” the stranger replied, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. He had a smirk on his face that made the wine in Cross’ stomach turn sour.

Reaching under the lectern for the second bottle of wine he’d hidden away, he ignored the man and popped the cork, pouring himself another full glass. He knew he would need it now. “What are you doing here, Tyki?”

Tyki hummed, taking a few steps forward as he watched Cross pour the wine. His unnatural yellow eyes were sharp, too sharp to be human, but Cross ignored it. He knew who Tyki was—_what_ he was. He hadn’t been afraid of demons like him for years now. There were worse things that clung to the shadows. “I thought the church welcomed everyone who entered?”

Snickering, Cross took a drink, draining the goblet by half before coming up for air again. “A good lie, that is. But the church doesn’t have a place for monsters like you.”

Tyki had the grace to look shocked at the insinuation. “Monster? Ouch, that’s harsh. And here I thought we were friends, Father Marian?”

Cross swirled the wine in his glass, leveling an unamused look back at Tyki. “Friend is a strong word. And I told you before—stop calling me Father Marian. To the likes of you, I’m Cross.”

“_Cross_,” Tyki said, his tone sickeningly sweet—purposefully so, just to get on his bad side. He walked to the dais and sat down on the edge next to him, planting his hands just behind his hips and leaning back. Cross tried not to look at the way his long curled hair fell over his shoulders as he glanced back at him. “You should be nicer to me. Isn’t that why I’m here? Because you liked me enough to keep me alive?”

He laughed again, the wine starting to go to his head. Not soon enough, either. “Whatever lets you sleep at night, I suppose.” He took another gulp from his goblet. Now that he had to deal with Tyki, he needed _so much more_ _wine_… “And you never said what you were doing here.”

Those eerie yellow eyes watched him, unabashed, and Cross did his best to ignore the way Tyki looked at him like he was a piece of meat, like he wanted to eat him whole. “To see you, of course.”

“Hn. _Me_.” Cross grabbed the bottle again and drank straight from it, forgoing the goblet altogether. Tyki didn’t speak; he simply stared at Cross, watching as he chugged down more stolen wine. It made his skin itch, like it was too tight for his body. He didn’t like it. “Look, unless you’re here on business, piss off. I’m not in the mood tonight.”

Tyki laughed outright, lifting a hand to hide his grin. To anyone else, it might have seemed an innocent gesture, but Cross could see the gleam of too sharp teeth hidden just behind his hand. “You’re an awful priest. Did you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” Cross set the bottle down and pushed back his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. “But I’m serious. Do you have any new information?”

Leaning forward, Tyki returned his gaze to Cross. “I might have some information you would find useful.”

“Might?” Cross frowned. He didn’t like the sound of that.

“Yeah,” Tyki replied, leaning in closer. Cross’ nose twitched as he leaned away, suddenly feeling claustrophobic next to him. “For the right price.”

“And what, exactly, is your price?”

“A kiss.”

Cross snorted, turning away and grabbing the wine again. “Fuck you.”

“I’ll take that, too.”

“Get the fuck out of my church,” Cross said, tone devoid of anything but annoyance and irritation. He stood up, taking his wine with him, and walked down the side aisle. He hated when Tyki talked like that, or got too close. He hated the way he looked at him, the way he spoke to him.

But what he really hated was the way all of that made his guts twist up like they were in a vice.

Tyki followed after him, only a few steps behind, and Cross could _feel_ the shit-eating-grin on his face without even looking over his shoulder. “Don’t you want to know the juicy demon gossip? I worked _so_ hard to get it for you.”

His shoulders twitched as he gritted his teeth. He stopped next to the line of confessionals, turning on Tyki with a murderous glare in his eyes. “You’re not exactly in a position to be demanding anything out of me. _I own you_. Until your debt to me is paid, you do as I say.”

Tyki grinned and licked his lips as he watched Cross quickly lose his temper, unraveling. “Is that a promise?”

“It’s a threat,” Cross spat back.

“Mm, sounds _kinky_.”

Something inside Cross snapped, like a rubber band pulled too tight or dry, brittle wood cracking under too much pressure. He grabbed Tyki by his dingy shirt, and shoved him against the confessionals, the half-drunk bottle of wine dropping to the floor and spilling across the tiles. The old wood creaked and groaned from the force, but didn’t break. Cross glared at the demon, eyebrows furrowed and lips turned down in a snarl, but the grin on Tyki’s face never wavered.

“You should be nicer to me, Father Marian,” Tyki began, his vicious tone completely out of sync with the smile on his face. “When I’m free of my debt, I might not looks so kindly on how you treated me.”

“I beat the piss out of you before and I’m not afraid to do it again.”

Tyki laughed, reaching up to stroke his long, red hair. Cross stiffened at the touch, but didn’t pull away. “Promises, promises. If you keep talking like that, I’m gonna get hard.” While Cross was distracted by the hand in his hair, he didn’t notice Tyki’s other arm wrap around his waist. He pulled their bodies flush together, hips aligned, and rocked into him. “Oops. Too late.”

Cross faltered, the abrupt and deliberate teasing pushing past their usual shitty banter. This crossed a line, one that he told himself he wouldn’t wander past again. But his body had other ideas and before he gathered his thoughts enough to pull away, Tyki commented on it.

“Guess I’m not the only one who’s hard.”

He needed to push Tyki away, put distance between them, get some breathing room to calm his agitated state. But his fist only tightened in Tyki’s shirt and he leaned harder against the grinning demon. “You should leave,” he said, still not making a move to let Tyki go.

“Or I should stay,” Tyki replied, tilting his face closer to Cross’, their noses a hair’s breadth apart. “And we could have a little fun.”

Cross knew he should knee the bastard in the crotch and be done with it—he wasn’t a horny teenager anymore and sex wasn’t exactly hard to come by. He could find a better partner than some shackled demon with loose lips and a shitty personality. But something about the way Tyki looked at him made Cross want to fuck him so hard it would rip that devilish grin right off his face.

Turning the handle for the confessional door behind Tyki’s hip, Cross opened it and shoved Tyki inside, shutting the door behind him. There was barely enough room for one person in it, let alone two, but he knew the close quarters wouldn’t bother Tyki.

Tyki snickered, his hands grabbing Cross’ ass and squeezing it like a ripe peach. “Right in the confessional? Won’t your God be mad at you for defiling his place of worship?”

The frown never left Cross’ face as he pushed Tyki back against the wall, the confessional shaking from the force of it. “Don’t you ever fucking shut up?” He grabbed Tyki by the hair, fingers clenched hard in his dark curls, and jerked him forward into a rough kiss. Tyki bit his lip, groaning lewdly into his mouth. Their bodies knocked together like two opposing forces fighting for dominance, vicious and rough. Tyki pulled at Cross’ robe, nails digging into his sides while Cross continued to tug at his hair.

When he’d had enough, he yanked Tyki off his lips, both of them sucking in a ragged breath. Cross turned him around, slamming his face against the wall and fumbling to undo his pants.

Tyki laughed, pressing his hands against the wall as Cross worked his jeans open. “What? Don’t want me to suck you off first?”

“I don’t want your teeth anywhere near me,” he replied, tone level as he finally worked the button and zipper open. He pushed the pants down Tyki’s thighs and indulged himself—sliding his hands over his ass, then up along his hips. Resting his chin on his shoulder, he curled one hand around Tyki’s cock and gave it a quick stroke. He would’ve been lying if he said the sound Tyki had made didn’t turn him on. His moan was almost a purr for how pleased and content he sounded and he backed his ass up, rubbing it against Cross’ still clothed cock.

“You know, it really hurts that you don’t trust me,” Tyki said, slowly rolling his hips against Cross’. “And after all we’ve been through.”

“You’ll get over it.” Cross grabbed his robe, hiking it up and out of the way to pull out his painfully hard cock. He hated how much the demon got to him, but knowing how much he enjoyed it was worse. “Now stop talking or I’ll gag you.”

Pressing his ass back, Tyki hummed thoughtfully. Cross grunted as his cock slipped between his cheeks, the dry friction exquisite on his stiff flesh. “Would you? Last I recall, you enjoyed the sounds I made when we fucked.”

Cross rolled his eyes and shoved two of his fingers into Tyki’s mouth, hoping it would shut him up for at least a few moments. “Shut up or I’ll leave you here to jerk off alone.”

As soon as his fingers hit Tyki’s tongue, he sucked on them, moaning loudly. He rocked his hips back into Cross’, giving them both a modicum of relief. Cross stroked his dick again, earning more of those sublime noises from Tyki. It didn’t matter that the demon had been right—he’d never admit he loved the way Tyki moaned under his touch. Blood rushed to his cock, the hard flesh throbbing with want. Too impatient to wait any longer, he pulled his fingers from Tyki’s lips, saliva coating them, and slipped his against Tyki’s asshole.

Tyki’s fingers curled against the wall, nails scraping along the lacquered wood. He looked over his shoulder and Cross caught the corner of a wicked grin spreading across his face. “You should know by now, you don’t need to be gentle with me.”

“Who said I’m being gentle?” Cross asked, shoving three fingers into his ass without warning.

The sudden pressure ripped another moan from Tyki’s throat, deep and guttural. Almost inhuman. Cross grinned for the first time since they’d begun their twisted dance, working his fingers deep into Tyki’s ass. He pressed his face against the back of his neck, nose buried in thick, dark curls as he inhaled his strange scent. Smoke, tobacco, and something else—darker, bitter, a scent he couldn’t place.

Tyki squirmed, but didn’t pull away. Cross knew the demon could overpower him if he wanted to—_easily_. Instead, he leaned against the wall and let Cross do what he pleased, panting and moaning with each thrust of his fingers. His other hand still stroked the demon, fingers tight around his hard shaft. After another minute of teasing, Tyki grunted and rocked his ass back against Cross’ hand.

“Are you gonna finger me all night or are you gonna fuck me?”

Cross grinned against Tyki’s neck, curling his fingers against his prostate as he dragged out his teasing longer. “Maybe I don’t want to get my dick dirty.”

“You’re a fucking liar,” Tyki choked out, laughing and moaning as he continued to writhe under Cross’ touch. “You want it—you want _me_. Admit it.”

Gritting his teeth, Cross ripped his fingers from Tyki’s ass and pushed him flush against the wall of the confessional. “Just shut the fuck up.” Without waiting for another snarky reply, he jerked his hips forward and impaled his dick into Tyki.

A sharp gasp flew past Tyki’s lips as the intrusion, the noise quickly turning into a pleased purr. He dug his nails into the wood, the lacquer splitting under the pressure. Eyes closed, he rocked back into Cross’ hips, savoring the full feeling of the priest’s cock in his ass.

Cross bit back the moan threatening to spill off his tongue, digging his fingers into Tyki’s hips instead. As much as he hated the demon, it was impossible to deny how good it felt to be buried balls deep in his backside. Tyki’s body was hotter than a human’s and he was incredibly tight—so much so that Cross almost felt like he was being pulled in deeper with each jerk of his hips, as impossible as that seemed.

That tight heat drew him in, filled his head with a dizzying haze of want and need. As lust overtook his senses, he pumped his hips forward, fucking into Tyki. Cross groaned, pressing his forehead between Tyki’s’ shoulder blades. It took ever drop of his energy not to collapse on his knees with every thrust. Pleasure shot through his limbs, deep in his veins as Tyki cried out in delight. And the rougher he fucked him, the more excited Tyki grew.

He knew it was some game the demon was playing, something to either pass the time or use against him later. Cross knew better than to think Tyki wanted to fuck him out of some sense of love or attachment. Demons didn’t love. They didn’t feel happiness or joy or sorrow or guilt. They only felt desire, hate, and fear. He was using Cross, like someone might use a tissue. It had its purpose and when it was done, he would throw it away. He was simply a means to an end.

Cross might have been angry, if he wasn’t using Tyki in the same fashion.

A lewd moan echoed in the confessional and Tyki rocked his hips to meet Cross’ steady thrusts. “Harder,” he gasped out, digging his nails deeper into the wood, splintering it. “_Harder._”

Obliging against his better judgment, Cross quickened his pace, rocking into Tyki’s backside with rougher, more violent thrusts. He panted into the back of his neck, breath hot against Tyki’s thick curls. His stomach twisted up in a delicious knot with each pump of his hips, pulling tighter and tighter. He knew he’d snap any second, too drawn up to keep his own pleasure from spilling from him like warm champagne from a bottle. In his sex-induced haze, he noticed Tyki reach down and jerk himself off, Cross’ hands too busy holding his hips still to stroke the demon’s cock.

“C’mon,” Tyki groaned out, a hint of laughter in his voice. “You’re a man of—_Nnn_— God, aren’t you? Help me see the—_ahh—_light.” His words were cut off with moans when Cross hit a sensitive spot and Cross couldn’t help but grin as he knocked the demon off his feet—metaphorically, of course.

Nearing his end, Cross leaned in heavier, faster. He felt the burn in his legs and the strain in his lower back as he fucked Tyki, heedless of the pain. As his hunger grew, he lowered his lips to Tyki’s shoulder and bit his neck, muffling a deep moan reverberating in his throat. The bite hadn’t even drawn blood or caused enough trauma to bruise, but it left an imprint of teeth against Tyki’s tan skin. Unable to hold himself back any longer, Cross came, hips jerking erratically as he stifled the satisfied groan that came with release.

Moaning, Tyki stoked himself faster and just as Cross pulled his dick free, he came on the back wall of the confessional, milking his cum all over the wood as Cross’ own essence dripped down the backs of his thighs.

Cross watched as the slick, white dripped down the wall and collected on the floor, his stomach turning at the sight.

Turning around, Tyki ignored the mess he’d made, his strange yellow eyes finding Cross’ gaze in the dark. “See how much fun we have together? We should do this more often.”

Tucking himself back into his robes, Cross kept his gaze neutral. He felt weak from the exertion, but at least his mind had cleared. “You got what you wanted. Now tell me the information you found.”

Tyki leaned in closer, a wicked grin on his face and his dick still hanging out of his pants. “You need to work on your pillow talk, Father Marian.”

Without hesitation, Cross pulled out a the crucifix tucked just in his shirt. He pressed the silver cross to the side of Tyki’s face. The demon hissed in pain, jumped back and cursing up a storm. He smelled burned flesh, blood. “I’m not going to ask nicely again.”

Cupping his face, Tyki sighed and glared at the priest, eyeing the crucifix still held so nonchalantly in his hand. “You’re an asshole.”

“I’m waiting.”

Tyki fixed his pants, all the fun of taunting Cross drained from his tone. “Someone’s summoning hellhounds and lesser demons downtown near the docks.”

Cross tucked his crucifix back into his shirt, face and tone still level and belying no emotion. “I’m listening.”

“I don’t know much else,” Tyki said, eyeing Cross warily. “Seems like the demons don’t trust me anymore. Can’t imagine _why_…”

Cross slammed his hand against the door, knocking it open with a _bang_. “All right. Time to go.”

Tyki grinned. “What? You drag me into a confessional and I don’t even get to confess?” He pressed his hands together as if to pray, looking up towards the ceiling. “Forgive me, _Daddy_, for I have sinned—”

“Get the fuck out of here,” Cross snapped, grabbing Tyki by his shirt collar for the second time that night and dragging him from the confessional. He shut the confessional door and pushed Tyki towards the exit. “I’ve seen enough of you for one night.”

Tyki hummed excitedly, leaning back into Cross’ hold. “Does that mean I get to come back tomorrow for another round?”

Cross’s lips drew into a tight, unhappy line. “Make that a week.”

Tyki turned around as he was unceremoniously shoved out of the church and into the cold night air. He winked at the priest, shoving his hands in his pockets. “What? No kiss goodnight?”

Cross slammed the doors shut, the sound echoing throughout the church. He took a breath, hands shaking as he held onto the door handles. When his blood pressure dropped and he managed to stop grinding his teeth together, he let go of the doors and took a deep, heavy breath. If someone or something was summoning demons, he needed to look into it. He was so close to cleaning out the demonic presence in this town, he couldn’t afford to let any leads slip.

Heading back to the dais, he walked back by the confessionals, his eyes drawn to the floor. The bottle of wine he’d dropped earlier had spilled across the tiles, staining them a dark, deep red. It reminded him of a similar mess he’d left behind in the confessional as well and he shivered in disgust. He had to clean the mess up before anyone found it and asked too many questions.

“God-fucking-dammit.”


End file.
